


Flashing Lights

by lazarusthefirst



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blowjobs, Frottage, M/M, broship, mild MILD irresponsible prescription drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott has broken up with Allison, so he and Stiles pop some Adderall and go to a rave</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flashing Lights

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the fucking webisodes again and got brotp feels, and this happened

'Wow, all this newfound heroism and bravery is clearly a real turn on, Scott,’ Stiles smirked as he watched his best friend having to maneuver away from yet another grinding girl on the dance floor. Stiles’ plans to distract Scott from his break-up with Allison by taking him out and getting him laid were being severely hampered by the fact that Scott was seeing beautiful brunette archers in every single chick that came near them, and he was so _not_ in the mood.

‘Dude, can we just get out of here?’ Scott called back over the sound of the music, squinting as the strobe lights started up again. Stiles rolled his eyes and tugged at his arm, pulling him deeper into the crush of sweaty bodies. ‘Come on!’

Stiles was glad he’d only worn a light t-shirt to the underground rave – it was a massive sweatbox and there was body paint and broken glow sticks everywhere, and Stiles’ arms and neck were streaked with colour.

The raves popped up every now and then and Stiles loved going to them; the music was always insane and nobody looked like themselves in the weird light-and-shadow effects of whatever they did with the walls and mirrors around the rooms. Scott didn’t look as impressed, but Stiles put that down to Scott’s standard brand of pining after the supposed love of his life dumped him for roughly the fourth time. He just needed a distraction.

A new song blared out of the DJ booth and Stiles hit Scott on the arm. ‘Dude!’ he exclaimed, as the surrounding dancers began to enthusiastically crush them. ‘See, they do have good music!’

Scott smiled and shrugged. ‘I guess,’ he shouted back. They didn’t really need to dance, just to keep their feet more or less on the ground as the crowd moved them around. They’d taken some of Stiles’ Adderall before they’d come in, and while Stiles had been feeling it tugging at his nerves all night, Scott was finally looking like he was coming up. Adderall affected Scott in a big way; Stiles would let him have some if he was cramming for a test or needed help cheering up, like now. The shit was expensive, so he rarely used it recreationally, but he figured tonight was an exception.

The beat was crazy and Stiles’ vision was severely impaired by the flashing lights. His heart was beating like crazy and Scott’s arms kept colliding with his. But Scott’s expression was brighter now; he was grinning at Stiles. Impulsively, Stiles grabbed him by the arm and bumped their foreheads together, mussing Scott’s hair playfully. Scott wriggled and laughed, pushing him away and then pulling him in again, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and mock punching his cheek.

Somehow they ended up hugging roughly like a pair of puppies, swaying back and forth, and letting the bodies knock them about the place. Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little bad at how Scott clung to him after a few moments; the kid was pretty broken up still. Stiles awkwardly patted his back as best he could given the circumstance, then pulled back a little and put his finger under Scott’s chin.

‘Chin up,’ he mouthed as he tipped Scott’s head back, and Scott laughed, his eyes bright and slightly wild. Stiles raised an eyebrow at the abrupt mood swing, but attributed it to the drugs as Scott grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the dance floor.

It was almost a mosh pit in the centre, but both of them were broad enough to make it through alive. Well, Scott was. Stiles just had very sharp elbows and knew how to use them.

Scott still had a firm grip on his hand, and Stiles was tripping over his own feet, when Scott suddenly decided that this was far enough, and stopped abruptly. Stiles was, as per usual, unprepared for sudden changes in movement, and faceplanted Scott’s back and reeled, colliding with a fellow bump-n’-grinder.

Scott turned around at almost the exact same moment as Stiles took an elbow to the small of his back from the offended jiver, and lurched forward. Scott caught his hand and let go of the one he was already holding to grab at his waist, pulling him up.

Stiles opened his mouth to say thanks, or cuss out the offender, but he was suddenly very occupied with Scott’s own mouth – which was, in an interesting turn of events, suddenly very much on his own.

It was the briefest of kisses – Scott seemed to realize what he was doing almost as soon as he did it, and pulled away sharply, though space was so limited that it was impossible for him to actually go anywhere. Stiles blinked in surprise, and unconsciously licked his lips. That hadn’t been … exactly unpleasant.

Scott looked mortified. ‘I’m – oh god, shit, I just thought you were about to - ’

‘’S fine,’ attempted Stiles, still processing. ‘That was … it was fine. It’s fine, Scott.’

They were too physically close for awkwardness. Scott looked very uncertain, and Stiles couldn’t help but let his eyes fall on his lips.

He blinked, glancing quickly up at Scott’s eyes, which were fixed upon him, then back down at his mouth, lips half parted. He looked up again, and something kind of passed between them very quickly, like a rush of comprehension. And Stiles decided, fuck it, he wanted to try that again.

Grabbing Scott’s collar, he pulled him in, and their noses bumped together before their mouths did, first a brief, hesitant kiss, then meeting again to move and touch and nip excitedly, lips parting and pressing, opening with a gasp to let their tongues touch in a confusing, exhilarating rush of _why does this feel so good oh fuck keep going_. Stiles wasn’t conscious of any thoughts of technique, or wondering was this good for him, or whether he was stepping on his toes. This was Scott, and this was easy. He knew how his mouth worked, knew how he’d move, and met each of his kisses with his own, effortlessly, thoughtlessly.

Scott’s hands were straying, and his own weren’t far behind. He felt fingers graze the hot skin beneath the hem of his paint-soaked t-shirt, teasing his navel, pulling at the front of his jeans. Stiles’ mouth was wandering, finding Scott’s epically formed jawline, and _shit_ it felt good beneath his mouth.

The crowd jostled them, and Stiles felt suddenly possessive and clingy. They broke apart slightly, and Stiles had a moment of worry before he saw the raging lust in Scott’s eyes, and felt a firm pull on his wrist.

They staggered through the rowdy dancers, tripping and stumbling in their haste, until they met the wall. Stiles went to move along it to get off the dance floor, but Scott unexpectedly slammed him into it and kissed him again. He was rough, and Stiles was fully prepared to reciprocate. Girls were so fragile and small; Scott pushed where Stiles pulled, and instinctively knew how Stiles liked it. He bit Scott’s lip and pulled; he felt rather than heard the groan vibrate through him, and the corner of his mouth flicked up in a grin.

Scott practically dragged him off the dance floor. Stiles thought he was heading for the exit, but felt a thrill of excitement shoot through him (and concentrate itself somewhere significantly south) when he saw the men’s room on the horizon. Single cubicles. Fuck yes.

They locked themselves in, Stiles almost getting his fingers caught in the doors. Right now he could start pumping blood from every pore and he would still be raring to go. Scott’s mouth was hot and possessive and _fucking everywhere_. Stiles felt like he needed to take the lead here though; this was still extremely new for Scott, and he didn’t want to throw him off and have it be terminally awkward for the rest of their lives, if it wouldn’t already be from just this.

All these thoughts passed through Stiles’ mind like a bullet and exited just as fast when he reached down and felt the rock hard lump in Scott’s jeans.

‘Ho-ly shit,’ he breathed, as Scott bit hot kisses into his neck. His ears were ringing from the music and his hands shook. He rubbed at the bulge experimentally, and Scott moaned into his skin. Stiles bit his lip to suppress more embarrassing noises of his own. Yeah, this was happening.

He didn’t stop to think about just how far this was going to go. All he knew was that he needed to get on his knees right now, because that undiscovered element right there was overcoming the alcohol and the drugs and was straining at the tightest pair of jeans Macy’s sold on sale because of _Stiles;_ he’d fucking lick the bathroom floor if he had to.

The tiles were cold. Stiles nosed at the front of his jeans, before sliding the zipper down. Scott was eager, and tried to help him out, but Stiles slapped his hands away and teased him through his boxers. There was a thud as Scott slammed his head back against the wall of the cubicle, and Stiles laughed softly, before suppressing yet another moan, this one of pure shock and desire. Scott was, as predicted, hung like a racehorse.

Stiles reflected, as he slid his hand all the way down Scott’s length to his balls, that it was an immensely good thing that he had almost no gag reflex. This was going to take some skill.

He licked the tip experimentally, and Scott moaned. Eager to see what kind of damage he could do, he slowly slid it into his mouth, taking each inch with a swipe of his tongue to the underside. He let it poke into his cheek, and saw Scott’s hands curl into fists out of the corner of his eye.

He licked and sucked, trying to recreate what he knew he himself liked; whatever the hell he was doing, it was working pretty fucking well. Scott’s hands were trying very hard not to grab at Stiles head; instead, they batted helplessly around it, occasionally disappearing so Scott could stuff a fist in his mouth whenever someone came into the bathroom, which didn’t throw Stiles off as much as he’d thought it would.

It certainly didn’t affect Scott. He could feel his balls tightening, and his cock was swelling; Stiles could taste salty precome in his mouth. Scott was coming apart in his mouth and holy fucking hell did that turn him on.

Scott’s hips were becoming jerky, and he was running the risk of getting stabbed in the eye, or being forced to take the whole thing in one go (Stiles literally didn’t think he had room in his mouth for all of that). He drew back slightly, wondering should he just go in for the kill, but Scott had different ideas. He bent and grabbed Stiles’ shoulders, tugging. Stiles got the hint and clambered to his feet. Scott had a wild, man-on-fire thing going on with his eyes, and Stiles felt his stomach lurch. His cock felt like it was going to fucking explode if something didn’t start happening to it soon.

Scott turned them around so that Stiles was the one with his back to the cubicle wall. Scott was fumbling with Stiles’ jeans, and Stiles was a little apprehensive now, thinking that once it came right down to it, Scott would baulk. Or, alternatively, realize that Stiles had a penis and that things would have to be done to it that weren’t in his usual repertoire of sex tricks.

However, he clearly underestimated Scott’s ability to think on his feet. Also the controlling stake Scott’s cock had in his thought process. He gasped when he felt Scott’s hand wrapping around around him, starting to jerk him off when he was still mostly inside his underwear. The sound of Stiles’ increasingly heavy and rapid breaths seemed to get right under Scott’s skin; he groaned a little and nipped at his neck, which went directly to Stiles’ dick. He bit his lip and fisted Scott’s hair, tugging his head up for a rough, open-mouthed kiss.

Scott was still rock hard, and leaking against Stiles’ jeans. Thinking fast, he carefully reached down and freed himself from his boxers. Trying not to break their kiss, he bucked his hips gently against Scott, resulting in the most fucking electrifying, mind-numbing experience as their cocks rubbed off each other. Scott quickly got the idea, and grabbed Stiles’ hips, slipping one hand down his jeans to squeeze his ass roughly. Stiles had never had to be this careless with someone in sex; he fucking loved the feeling of Scott pulling and grabbing at him, thrusting himself up against him. The friction was fucking phenomenal; he was going to scream if he didn’t occupy his mouth. He yanked Scott’s head to the right so he could bite and suck at his neck. Scott’s breath was hot on his skin and he was making these incredibly hot sounds of pure lust in his ear.

Their movements were becoming more rapid and desperate. Their hands and mouths roamed freely, taking all the liberties they wanted. Scott ran his hands all over Stiles’ back and butt, nails scraping, fingers digging in as the heat built up inside both of them. Stiles was moaning openly now, totally consumed by the rhythm of their touch and the feel of every hot, delicious inch of Scott pressed up against him. He felt the strength of Scott’s bunched muscles when he gripped his arms, felt the tendons in his neck tighten as he pressed frantic kisses to his smooth skin. Fuck, he was going to scream or pass out.

The cubicle wall rattled as Scott rocked up against him, hands clawing his skin, grabbing his ass. Stiles threw his head back as with one final, shuddering thrust, his vision whited out and then flashed brokenly, and his orgasm ripped through his body like an electric shock, making his fingers dig in to whatever part of Scott his could find and his legs twitch and spasm, almost giving way. Twice more, and Scott was swearing, gasping, collapsing on his shoulder as he shook in release. Their hands slipped, and the two of them slid sideways, until Stiles had the presence of mind to grab at the toilet and lower them on to the lid.

He was sticky, and damp in uncomfortable places. Scott slid down from him until his butt hit the ground. His head and shoulders drifted sideways until they were against Stiles's legs, and there they stayed, half lying, half sitting, until someone started hammering at the door, saying it was their – ‘I mean, _my_ ’ – turn.

Stiles was still breathing rapidly; the extra Adderall was keeping his heart rate elevated. He had a moment of terrifying doubt that he would look down and see a look of horror on Scott’s face.

He felt a tug at his jeans. Scott was looking up at him, a glint of amusement in his eye, and holding out a wad of toilet paper.

Stiles paused for a moment, then caught a sly smile creeping across Scott’s face. He snorted softly, and accepted the proffered cleaning tools.

A few hurried minutes, and a bit more toilet paper later, they were making a hasty exit from the club, being eyed by suspicious security guards. Stiles was incredibly shaky and a little sleepy, but fuck, he was on the highest of highs.

They stepped out into the freezing night air, and Scott shivered.

‘So,’ said Stiles casually, as they let their ears adjust to the quiet of the night. ‘You glad you came?’

Scott snorted with surprised laughter. Stiles grinned at him, rolling his eyes. ‘Come on,’ he said, amused, pulling on his sleeve. ‘You’ve got paint in places you probably shouldn’t.’

They made their way unsteadily towards Stiles’ jeep, and started to race each other halfway there, pushing and shoving, their laughter ringing in the empty street.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Flashing Lights' by Kanye West was the main sponsor here, though I did listen to a whole lot of 'Hot Air Balloon' by Owl City
> 
> I'm over on tumblr and twitter


End file.
